The Wanderer
by The Storyteller Saga
Summary: Decades after David refounded the Order of the Storytellers another man has taken up the responsibility of protecting the Storylands from harm. First story of Book One of the second arc of the Storyteller Saga. You can read this as a standalone, but we recommend reading the rest of the Saga as it comes out.
1. Mask of Smiles

_Again?_ Erek thought to himself, taking out his phone. The school day was over, he had to get home.

The text was from his mother. He opened it with a sigh. He already knew what it said. This was the third time he had received it that day.

 _Are you coming? I need to know, sweetie_

He wasn't sure he wanted to go to the show with his mother. There were more important things he could do. Like studying for next week's test, or taking Emily to that new restaurant down the street. What would he do with his mother anyway? Go to some street show?

On the other hand, it was his mother's birthday. Stacy was an artist. She loved every kind of art: paintings, poetry, novels; but her favorite kind was the stories that street performers tell. She loved the innovative storytelling and the wild improvisations.

Erek thought it would be boring. _I'm too old for fairy tales._

Erek's family's situation was not particularly good. Erek's little sister had been killed in a car accident and his father, who was a writer, died from severe heart disease two years ago. Erek and his mother lived alone in their tiny apartment, still trying to recover from the suffering they went through.

Despite Erek's problems, he wanted to hurt his mother as little as possible. Stacy went through enough at work where she sold amazing works of art at rock-bottom prices so she could pay the rent. She tried to show him that their situation wasn't as bad as it seemed. She was always smiling, reassuring Erek that things would get better. She never got angry, never pressured him to come home on time, or to do his schoolwork; she gave him his space.

She was so cheerful, in fact, that Erek once wondered whether she had forgotten about the whole thing; but then he woke up in the middle of the night to hear her crying. He immediately felt guilty. How could he even think of something like that?

 _What to do? Go with mom and annoy my friends, or hang out with everyone and let mom down?_ He gave a rueful smile. _You just answered your own question, Erek._ He texted his mother back with a sigh, saying he'd go with her. It would probably be pretty boring, but he knew nothing cheered his mother up like spending quality time with him.

Erek arrived home. The surrounding buildings were just as grey and bleak as he remembered. He wondered what his friends would say if they knew why he ditched them. He wouldn't tell anyone. The last thing he needed was Aaron catching wind of it.

Aaron was the class delinquent. He and his band of followers would harass Erek constantly. Erek tried not to react to it, not giving them the satisfaction of knowing they had gotten to him. He hoped it would just blow over. The teacher would occasionally intervene, but Erek knew that it would all just repeat itself the next day.

Erek chose not to tell his mother about it. He didn't want to worry her or bother her for no reason.

 _I'll just give them the normal excuse. It always works,_ he thought to himself as he walked into the building. The outside of the building was nothing special, but the inside was a different story altogether.

Ordinary people would expect a building like this to be dirty and dusty with paint peeling from the walls, but instead the floor was clean, no dust to be found. Instead of unsightly, peeling paint, the walls were festooned with pictures created by the resident artist. Erek smiled slightly. She was so talented. She deserved better.

Erek's mother insisted that children should have a more pleasant space to live in. She said that if the building was slightly better maintained and even decorated a bit, everyone would be slightly better off. With some persuasion, along with some careful flattery, Stacy got the approval of all the residents. The building was in much better shape now.

 _I don't know why you bother, Mom. In the end no one thanks you._ Erek thought sadly.

"Hey Erek. How was school?" asked Erek's mother as he walked through the door and found her putting the finishing onto a new painting.

The house itself was small and cramped. It seemed like all the furniture was forcefully crammed into the too-small space, as if the owner couldn't bear the thought of throwing any of them away. Some of the rooms seemed meshed together, like the builder didn't have enough space to fit in all the rooms. There was little distinction between the kitchen and the dining room. One of the two bedrooms doubled as a studio for Erek's mother.

"Fine. Nothing really happened," Erek lied. He told her this lie almost every day. Something always happened. Usually concerning Aaron.

"Glad to hear it," his mother said, smiling. "If you're hungry, there's some leftovers from yesterday."

"No, I'm fine," said Erek. He walked towards the room down the hall. He opened the door and threw his bag on the bed.

Erek's room was just as cramped as the rest of the house. His bedside table was almost right up against the door. There was barely any space between the table and the bed. It was difficult to pass between them. The closet was small and contained all the clothing that Erek owned. Given what they could afford, however, it wasn't much.

Erek did not complain about the size of the house and his room. He knew it could be much worse. He could be like those families with no home at all.

Erek's dream was to be a violinist, creativity was in his blood, but he knew it would never happen. Not with the current financial situation at home.

Erek knew he couldn't support his mother like that, so he decided that he would become a doctor. That way he could make an honest living and maybe one day his dream would come true. However, as the days passed, Erek believed that less and less, convincing himself that dreams only come true in legends and stories.

Becoming a doctor wasn't easy. He immediately sat down to do his homework. The schoolwork wasn't easy for Erek, but he did all he could to succeed.

After a while his mother came into the room and announced that they were leaving in half an hour so he should get organized. Erek took a quick shower and got dressed. Jeans and a T-shirt were the best he had.

"Oh, don't wear your good clothes, sweetie. I don't want you to ruin them," his mother said when he emerged.

"It's your birthday, mom. This is a happy occasion," Erek answered.

Erek's mother's eyes sparkled. It was clear that she appreciated his consideration. Stacey herself was wearing clothes that might look quite plain on another person, but on her they looked beautiful.

Erek was sure that his mother was the most beautiful woman, she didn't makeup to enhance her appearance. Despite this, she wore makeup around her eyes. She had been crying again, Erek realized. Probably because his father and sister couldn't participate in the joy of the day.

"Come on. We don't want to be late. You want to enjoy yourself as much as possible, don't you?" Erek's mother said.

"This outing is supposed to be for you, mom," said Erek as they exited the building. "Where we going, anyway? The theater or something?"

"I was actually thinking about something else," Erek's mother said smiling. "There's a festival for the arts being held in the downtown area. I thought we might go there."

"In the marketplace?" Erik asked, surprised.

"Yes, I'm sure you'll enjoy it there," his mother said. "Who knows, maybe it'll inspire you to pick up violin again." Erek didn't want to argue with her, so he said nothing.

They took the downtown bus. It was much better than taking the car. The traffic was horrible and the marketplace had an infamous lack of parking spaces.

After half an hour they arrived at their destination. Downtown wasn't a particularly well-kept place. Even Erek's street was in better shape.

Erek looked around the market at all the stalls. Usually, they were groaning under huge weights of fruits vegetables and spices. Today, however, most were closed because of the festival. The open space was crowded with dozens of musicians and other artists who came to showcase their talents, sell their work and get some publicity.

Several paper signs hung on nearby lampposts, indicating which section of the fair was dedicated to which kind of artist.

"Mom, don't tell me you came here to work?" Erek demanded. "It's your birthday. You deserve some rest."

"Don't worry, kiddo. I did not come to work," she answered. "I just came to enjoy the show with you."

"So, what do you want to see?"

They passed a group of talented violinists. Erek felt a little twinge in his heart.

"Oh, I do not know. There are so many interesting things here." Stacy's eyes were glowing. She was overjoyed with all the artists in the area.

"Mom?" She didn't seem to hear him. "Mom?" he said insistently.

"Oh, sorry, sorry," she said, shaking her head as if to clear it. "I feel like a good story. One that has never been told before." She set off in the direction the sign indicated, leaving Erek to scramble after her.

Erek hoped that, out of everything, his mother would not choose a fairy tale or something else like that. Life in legends always had a happy ending and it made him angry. Life wasn't like that.

"So what story would you like?" his mother asked him.

"You're letting me choose?" asked Erek.

"As long as you don't choose a boring one," she answered, smiling. "Look around and tell me what tickles your fancy."

On one hand, Erek was glad that he could choose, but on the other hand he was a little worried. He didn't know what to choose for himself. He took his time and looked around.

The area was packed with small stands. Large signs hanging over them proudly proclaimed what kind of story would be told there. Some were plays for younger audiences, like Little Red Riding Hood.

Erek rolled his eyes at the sight of some teenagers sitting at a stall where a girl not much older than they were told a soppy romantic story. Something about vampires and… glittering? The girl seemed very excited, so she wasn't very coherent.

There were all kinds of stories. Serious adult-themed stories, geeky stories about Star Trek, even a story told entirely in pantomime.

All of these stories were something Erek had heard in one form or another. He didn't see anything new and interesting. He was about to give up and ask his mother to choose something by herself when something attracted his attention.

One stand lacked any sort of sign. A man sat behind it, smiling at the passers-by. He seemed amused about something. His age was not clear. He could have been anywhere between twenty five and forty.

There was something about him that gave Erek a strange feeling. A shiver spread down his spine. He felt a strange desire to stay away from him. Some base instinct made him want to put as much distance between himself and the man.

Despite this, Erek was interested to hear his story.

"How about that one?" Erek asked, pointing at the strange man's stand.

"Are you sure?" his mother asked.

"Positive," he said.

"Welcome," the man said as Erek and his mother approached. He gestured to a couple of chairs before him. "Please, sit," he said with a warm smile.

Erek knew how to read people's faces from experience. His mother always smiled to set him at ease, but he could see through it. She wore a mask of smiles to hide her pain. This strange man, however, wore an odd, confusing smile. It was both happy and sad at the same time, with something else in there that Erek couldn't identify.

 _I hope this wasn't a mistake,_ Erek thought apprehensively.

"So, you've come to hear the story?" the man asked, rubbing his hands together. They had the rough, discolored patches of a burn victim.

"What story do you have to offer?" Erek's mother asked the man. The words had a ritual feel to them. It must be some sort of custom.

"A story like no other," the man replied.

"That's what they all say" Erek said without thinking.

"Erek!" His mother said sharply, turning to the man: "I'm sorry-"

"It's quite all right, I understand the child," the man interrupted her. He turned to Erek. "How about a little wager?"

"Wager?" Erek asked in surprise: "What kind of wager?"

"it's very simple," the man said, smiling. "If you are bored by the end of the story, you will receive something that is more precious to me than gold, but if I win…" he paused dramatically, "you owe me a sandwich."

Erek blinked at the strange request. "A sandwich?"

"Yes," the man said, nodding gravely, as if he had asked for a king's ransom. "But I do ask that you be honest with me about your reaction."

"And you're not afraid to lose that precious thing of yours?"

"No," the man said, turning to Erek's mother "Is that all right with you?"

"I suppose so," she replied.

 _He's going to lose, big time,_ thought Erek and smiled. _Even if I lose, it's only a sandwich._

"So, what do you say?" asked the man, raising his hand. "Deal?"

"Deal," said Erek. He shook the man's extended hand.

The man pulled out a harmonica from a hidden pocket in his sleeve and played for a few minutes. The simple melody soaring, the intricate harmonies drifting. It was a varied song, full of triumphant crescendos and joyous trills, solemn marches and heartbreaking vibratos. Its bittersweet tone brought tears to Stacy's eyes. Erek's weren't particularly dry either.

The music stopped suddenly, its haunting echoes lingering, coloring the man's next words.

"Let me tell you a story…"


	2. Chapter 1

"So I understand you wish to become a teacher at Beacon," said Professor Ozpin. He paused and sipped his coffee. "However, from what I can see on your résumé you do not have much experience with teaching. That is a considerable stumbling block. Here at Beacon we give our students only the best tools and teachings to help them on their paths to become hunters and huntresses."

"Not to mention the impropriety of his conduct," sniffed Glinda. She glared at the man in sitting across from Ozpin. He had decided for some reason that this was a good time to put his legs on the headmaster's desk.

The man grunted. "You remind me of my aunt."

"Glinda, would you be so kind as to leave the two of us alone for a short while? I wish to converse with our guest privately," said Ozpin. "Also, it seems that your presence distracts him." As Glinda complied, albeit grudgingly, Ozpin returned his cool gaze to the applying professor.

He seemed to be in his forties, although he didn't act like it. His eyes were constantly amused, but if you looked into them long enough, you would begin to see a great sadness lurking beneath the surface.

The man's hair was short, it appeared to be recently cut. Despite this, he somehow still managed to look as if he had just crawled out of bed. A thin layer of stubble covered his chiseled jaw.

He didn't seem to be terribly worried about what the headmaster thought of him. He lounged in his chair, his feet still on the desk.

"Might I ask which class you wish to teach, Mr…?" Ozpin inquired.

"Alfred," the man answered. "To answer your question, I intend to teach the students here how to use their minds when on the battlefield, not just their fists. I want them to learn to come up with creative solutions to difficult situations that might arise."

"A noble sentiment, but I'm afraid that you simply don't have the skills required to teach at this prestigious establishment." Ozpin closed his briefcase with a snap. "However, I am aware that paperwork alone cannot always convey the entirety of a situation, let alone a person. Therefore, I am willing to give you another chance to impress me." Ozpin regarded the man, Alfred, calmly over his steepled fingers. "Why do want to teach at my school?"

Alfred's eyes suddenly lost all their levity, seeming to grow dimmer. "I just want a normal life again," he said plaintively.

"Normal?" Ozpin asked. "In what way?"

"In any way," Alfred said.

"And why is that?" Ozpin asked, reopening his briefcase and removing the résumé. "From what you have written here, you have spent the last five years as…" he trailed off bearing a confused expression.

"Go on," Alfred said encouragingly.

Ozpin eyed the smiling man, unsure whether he was mocking him or not. "A barman at 'The Shady Shack' on 'Aimless Alley' near 'Sinister Street'"

Alfred laughed out loud. "Oh, that one is my favorite!"

Ozpin frowned. "What exactly do you mean by that?"

"I lied, simple as that," Alfred said, recovering from his attack of mirth. "I don't have a house at the edge of the city, I haven't worked on Sinister Street and my name isn't even Alfred. I fabricated all of those documents"

Ozpin's eyebrows furrowed as his face became severe. "These are some very serious crimes you are confessing to. I will have to notify the appropriate authorities." He leaned forward. "Unless, of course, you have a very good reason why I shouldn't."

"When you say 'appropriate authorities' I assume you are referring to your friend from Atlas. Or, to be more precise, General James Ironwood. You, he, Glinda and several other _very_ interesting people have been meeting here secretly for years. Very hush-hush, or so I've heard."

Ozpin blanched but kept his voice under control. "Where exactly did you hear of that, if I may ask?"

"I know a great many things. I have to," the man said. "I'm willing to tell you my story, but in return you have to promise to believe me."

"I think I can safely say that I have seen a thing or two in my lifetime, Alfred, or whoever you are. You would be hard pressed to find something I wouldn't find possible."

"Trust me when I say it will be a little more than you will be willing to accept," the man said, rubbing his hands together. "Unless you decide to believe me."

"I'm willing to listen." Ozpin sipped his coffee.

"Well then," the man said. "Let me tell you a story…"

* * *

"And here are student dormitories," said Glinda. Ozpin had instructed her to give the new professor a tour of the grounds. She had protested that she would rather face down a flock of Nevermores by herself than spend the afternoon with that horrible man. He had laughed. He thought she was joking.

"Teachers' residences are over there, but, unfortunately, there are no vacancies," said Glinda with a certain relish, opening a door in front of her. "You will have to live in one of the student dormitories temporarily."

The room itself was quite simple yet decent. The black floor was covered with a red carpet. The curtains on the window on the opposite wall were also red. The grey walls had patterned wallpaper and the bed was flanked by a wardrobe and bedside table.

"If this is a student dormitory, why is there only one bed?" Alfred asked.

"We prepared it for you ahead of time. For the unlikely scenario in which you got accepted," Glinda said. "I still don't understand how you managed to convince Ozpin."

"Thank you for bringing me here, Glinda. It looks very cozy."

"I will return in half an hour to continue our tour. In the meantime, feel at home," said Glinda. She turned and closed the door behind her.

* * *

"Home." The man who called himself Alfred snorted, as if laughing at a joke only he could appreciate.

He began unpacking his backpack, removing clothes, which he put in the wardrobe, and books, which he arranged on the shelves seemingly randomly. You could see the first book in a series on one shelf, and when you look for the sequel, it would be on a shelf across the room.

A green satchel with a shoulder strap was leaned against the bed. A strange device was emblazoned on the front: a golden square enclosed by a golden circle.

Alfred removed an item wrapped carefully in a thick cloth. Unwrapping it slowly, he set it down on the desk. It was a framed photo. A young boy hugging his grandfather smiled up at Alfred. He looked at it sadly.

Finished with his unpacking, the man sat on his bed, clutching an old book bound in dark leather and strips of metal. The pages were disorganized sticking out at odd angles. A symbol of a scroll and feather quill was painted on the front cover. Beneath the symbol were written several lines of text:

 **A Storyteller tells a story that lasts through the ages**

 **The book he binds**

 **He captures men's minds**

 **But books stay as long as their pages**

 **The Story, however, will survive and thrive just as long as people remember**

 **The minds captured**

 **Remain enraptured**

 **And so glows the ember**

Alfred opened the book and began to peruse it. It was filled with strange graphs, charts and comments scribbled in the margins. Any other person looking at it would not have deciphered a thing. Alfred, however, seemed to understand it perfectly. He even took the book to the table and began penning out his own comments.

"It just doesn't make sense!" he proclaimed in frustration a few minutes later.

Suddenly, his train of thought was broken by a loud disturbance coming from the mess hall. Alfred grinned.

He removed a utility belt from his bag and slung it over his shoulder. From one of the pouches he produced a white chess pawn. He pushed down on the pawn's head and a large blade, perhaps twenty centimeters in length, emerged from its base with a _click_. He then removed a length of cord from another pocket, tying it to the pawn-knife, forming a rudimentary grappling hook.

Hopping up onto the windowsill with surprising agility, Alfred held the knife lightly, almost lazily, in his hand and sent it streaking toward a nearby tree. It sunk in almost up to its hilt, giving Alfred a sturdy anchor. He swung out of the window and climbed down the cord to the ground. When his feet touched the well-trimmed grass he gave the cord a quick jerk, yanking his pawn-knife out of the tree. Stowing his equipment away, Alfred dusted off his hands unconcernedly, as if jumping out of a window was a normal occurrence for him.

"That was fun," he said.

Alfred was distracted a moment later by fresh screams erupting from the mess hall. He set off in their direction.

"Well, well," said Alfred. "That's not something you see every day."

Dozens of frightened students were desperately trying to put as much distance between themselves and the mess hall as humanly possible. Many of them were covered in food stains, and some with actual bits of food stuck in their clothes or hair. There was one unfortunate girl who seemed to have an entire lemon-meringue pie stuck on her backside.

Alfred entered the room and stared in amazement at what he found. The hall looked as if it had been hit by a tornado. Tables and benches were scattered along the sides of the room and food was everywhere.

At the far end of the room was an enormous pile of tables. A young girl with blazing bright orange hair stood on its crown.

"I'm queen of the castle, I'm queen of the castle!" she piped in a high, singsong voice.

Beneath her were a group of three other students: a girl with a serious expression on her face and a golden circlet around her dark red hair, a nervous looking young man with messy blond hair and a boy with his pink-streaked black hair gathered into a ponytail.

"Justice will be swift, justice will be painful. It will be delicious!" The unconventional war cry came from a small girl who stood nearer to Alfred with her back to him. Her short black hair shaking with rage, she squeezed a milk carton between her fingers, demonstrating what would happen to all who opposed her.

She was joined by the enthusiastic calls of her teammates.

"Yang, turkey!" the small girl yelled out. Alfred scrunched up his brow. Turkey?

A tall, statuesque young woman with blond, waist length locks- Yang, apparently- ran forward, jamming her hands into two large turkey carcasses and began using them as gauntlets to fend off a barrage of watermelons from the opposing team. She would rely mostly on brute strength, pulverizing several at a time with each blow when she could, taking them head-on with her body when she couldn't.

"Tanking her hits," Alfred murmured to himself. "Could use some more finesse."

The second ran up behind her to join the fray, using two elongated baguettes as makeshift swords to bat away the incoming fruit. She was of more average height than the first, with piercing molten-yellow eyes. Her long, midnight hair whipped around her as she catapulted herself over the missiles.

The last of them engaged the orange haired girl who had cobbled together a strange looking battle-hammer from a metal pole and a leftover watermelon. Despite her apparent youth, the third teammate had snow-white hair and a fading crescent-shaped scar beside one of her ice-blue eyes. It bespoke experience in battle and her natural, fluid grace seemed to support that. To combat her opponent's choice of a bludgeoning weapon, she opted for a more elegant approach, whipping up a large swordfish to use as a rapier.

It was obvious that she had had extensive training with the weapon. The rapier, of course. Not the fish. Her feet danced deftly across the floor, her fish stabbed and parried masterfully. However, it was all for naught. During their furious battle, the white-haired girl's more subtle approach backfired. The watermelon-hammer bulling past her defenses and sending her streaking towards the wall.

Alfred continued his muttered monologue. "She has the opposite problem. She dodges too much. Doesn't have enough time to rally an assault."

The strength of her impact was so that the pillar she collided with cracked in several places, eventually crumbling and falling toward her limp form. With a surprising burst of speed, the team leader plucked her out from under the collapsing wreckage. She knelt with her unresponsive teammate in her arms, screaming melodramatically as the pillar collapsed to the ground behind her. _Very cinematic_ , Alfred thought dryly.

A loud crash sounded from across the room. Alfred whipped his head around searching for the source and he saw the girl with the watermelon hammer standing alone, smugly gazing at a hole in the ceiling. Alfred was pretty sure it wasn't there before. On an unrelated note, he noted that Yang was nowhere to be seen.

No more than a minute later, the girl with the yellow eyes was taken down by several exploding soda cans. They somehow levitated and threw themselves furiously at her.

Only the team leader was left. With her small frame and lack of a weapon she didn't stand a chance against the remaining students. However, she stood proudly before them, a grim expression on her pixie-like face. She crouched down, as if gathering herself for some titanic effort…and vanished. In her place was a red blur…no, a whirlwind, that picked up all of the remaining food in its slipstream. A delicious-looking tidal wave swept the entire team off their feet and smashed them onto the far wall, leaving no doubt who the victor was.

"I love these guys," a voice exclaimed from the side. Alfred looked and saw a pair of young men. The one with the spiky blond hair and the monkey's tail was talking to the other. Under all of the food covering him, however, it was impossible to make out any distinguishing characteristics.

The door slammed open, admitting a livid Glinda. She stalked across the hall, waving her hand dismissively as she did. All the piles of tables and benches obeyed her command, rising up and organizing themselves behind her. Alfred quickly jumped off the table he'd been using as a seat before it levitated back to its original place.

"Children, please," Glinda said, obviously concealing her rage only with difficulty. "Do not play with your food."

Her ice cold proclamation was undermined slightly by the girl with the orange hair letting out an impressive belch and Yang finally returning to earth, having apparently spent the last few minutes hurtling through the stratosphere, leaving another hole in the roof.

"Impressive," Alfred said.

"Who are you?" asked Yang, unfazed after her near-death experience.

"I believe the proper response to meeting a stranger is "hello."

Glinda looked, if anything, more furious. "You were here all this time, yet did nothing to stop it? Are you a teacher or not?"

"I'm sorry, I don't believe you realize the importance of what I've done here"

"Enlighten me."

"I simply _couldn't_ let these perfectly good tomatoes go to waste," said Alfred, grinning as he took a bite out of the vegetable.

Glinda buried her face in her hand, shaking her head. "I can't believe this."

"In all seriousness, though, I actually did have an academic reason for my inaction."

"Academic," Glinda said flatly.

"Yes. I tested them all."

"What kind of test, if I may ask?" a voice called out from the entrance. Ozpin.

"A very important test, headmaster," said Alfred, clasping his hands behind his back and strutting through the hall as if he were a professor lecturing a topic in front of hundreds. "I wanted to know what kind of material I have to work with here. Are these block-headed students that wouldn't last five seconds in a real fight? Or are their mental functions a cut above those of the average Grimm?"

"And what did you find, professor?" asked Ozpin, sipping from his ever-present mug of coffee.

"To tell the truth-" Alfred began, looking over the bedraggled group of teenagers. "I'm rather impressed."

Their anxious expressions quickly relaxed into grins of triumph.

"Impressed with their ability to break this school's rules and destroy its property?" demanded Glinda.

"You're not looking at it from the right perspective," said Alfred, shaking his head. "You didn't see the _way_ they fought and how they used their surroundings to their advantage. Even so they still got a lot to learn."

"We must discuss your, ahem, teaching methods in more detail in the future," said Ozpin with a slight smile.

"Don't worry headmaster," said Alfred with exaggerated deference. "I will work to limit my…experiments."

If the mocking tone of Alfred's voice bothered Ozpin, he didn't show it.

"Are these to be my students?" Alfred asked.

"I believe so," Glinda replied.

"Yes!" Alfred pumped his fist. Glinda glared at him. He composed himself and cleared his throat. "Sorry."

"We really should be getting back to business," said Glinda, motioning for Alfred to follow her.

"Wait a minute. Before you go could you at least tell us who you are?" Yang asked. She stood in front of the new professor with her arms crossed.

"I'm your new teacher."

"What do you teach?" asked the young man with the blond hair.

"And what is your name, Mr…"

"Arc. Jaune Arc."

"Well, Mr. Arc, the answer to that will be revealed tomorrow morning in class. Nine o'clock sharp!" said Alfred, eying the rest of the students meaningfully.

"Can you at least tell us your name?" asked Yang.

"You may call me Professor Alfred," he said with a grin. "See you in class."

* * *

 **A/N: This is a new addition to the Storyteller Saga. Sorry for not being active lately. Life is getting in the way. We bit off a bit more than we could chew. Therefore, unfortuately, we will be taking a hiatus for a while (not too long, we hope) to produce some more content. Also, in order to differentiate between the writers here, we have come up with pen names. I will henceforth be known as...Beast in the Woods! Or just Beast for short. Anyway, we apoligize for the long hiatus, but we promise it will be worth it.**

 **~Beast in the Woods**

 **Disclaimer: RWBY belongs to Rooster Teeth.**


	3. Chapter 2

Yang stifled a yawn. "When will this class be over?" she grumbled quietly. Who knew that Professor Port could make even a bloody fight to the death with an inhuman monster sound dull?

"These lessons are so _boring_ , right Ruby? Ruby?"

A snore drifted over to her in reply. Ruby had bundled up her red cloak and was using it as a pillow.

"How much longer, Blake?"

"Subtract forty-five seconds from the last time you asked me," Blake replied, rubbing her eyes.

"-and then at the last second, my hand found faithful blunderbuss and-this part is not for the faint of heart- blew out the fierce Ursa's grey matter all over the ground! Yes indeed! That was a most glorious day!" Professor Port was a portly man with an old-fashioned haircut and monstrous mustache. He stood at the front of the class, gesticulating wildly, trying to tell his story with the most panache he could muster. Too much of it, one could say.

Applause sounded from the entrance of the classroom, echoing in the silence. That new professor from the mess hall incident a few days ago was standing there, his sardonic grin still in place. "Bravo, I say! Bravo, my good man!"

Professor Port seemed surprised that someone had actually enjoyed his story. A moment later, though, he regained his scattered wits. "Well, thank you kindly, good sir. There are few who appreciate my accounts as much as you seem to." Here his expression grew animated. "I was just about to embark on the tale of how I single-handedly took out the dreaded Nevermore flock from Vacuo."

"As much as I would love to hear that story, Professor, I'm afraid that I will have to cut your lesson short. Professor Ozpin has asked to meet with you. It's rather urgent. He said that I was to substitute for you in your absence."

"Ah. Of course. Just make sure they get a proper lesson. I wouldn't want their education to suffer because of my duties." The portly professor began to gather his things and walked toward the door.

"Don't worry. They're in good hands."

"Class, this is Professor Alfred. He will be filling in for me, as I have pressing matters to attend to."

The two teachers nodded respectfully to each other as they passed.

Once Port was out of earshot the new professor gave the class a sneaky grin. "Now that I've rescued you from death by having your ear talked off, what would you fine young lads and lasses like to do with the rest of the lesson?"

"Take the rest of it off?" Blake asked hopefully.

"You know I can't do that Miss Belladonna," said Alfred. "What I can do is give you a little quiz. I'll throw a few hypothetical situations your way and you tell me how you would handle them in the most intelligent way possible."

Several of the students groaned quietly.

"No complaining!" Alfred said. "This is for your own good. What would you do if you were on a mission and there was an enormous dragon blocking your path?"

"Um, sir?" Weiss raised her hand tentatively.

"Yes, Miss Schnee?"

"Well, dragons are mythological. There's no such thing."

"How is this relevant to the question?"

Weiss looked askance. "If dragons don't exist, then how would we meet one?"

"I did say _hypothetical_ situations."

Yang lost her patience. She raised her hand.

"Yes?"

"I would knock it out of my way and keep walking."

"And if that doesn't work?"

"I'll hit it harder."

"And if _that_ doesn't work?"

"Just keep hitting it until it moves."

Alfred rubbed his forehead in exasperation. "Not everything can be solved with your fists Miss Xiao Long. I will see you after class."

"But, Professor, I can't. I have to-"

"After class, young lady," said Alfred sternly. "Anyone else?" He looked around the classroom.

Jaune raised his hand hesitantly.

"Yes, Mr, Arc? What solution do you have to this conundrum?"

Jaune looked as if he already regretted raising his hand. His face was a pasty white. "Well…I-"he mumbled.

"Speak up." The professor had an encouraging smile on his face.

Jaune took a breath and continued speaking, his voice steadier. "I would try to find an alternative route around the- ahem- dragon." Here his face lit up. "Or I could try to communicate with it. It might not be hostile."

The looks on his classmates' faces ranged from confused to condescending to outright hostility. However, this seemed to be the answer Alfred was looking for. The professor nodded approvingly.

"Good answer, Mr. Arc. I'm glad to have such a sharp student in my class this year." He tuned and addressed the whole class. "You see, you need to be able to think with more than just your fists. Brains will take you a lot farther than brawn. You are the elite fighters of the future. In order to be the best Huntsmen and Huntresses you can be, you will have to train not only your bodies, but your minds as well."

Yang snorted quietly and rolled her eyes.

"You may not be the most able-bodied of warriors from this class, Mr. Arc," Alfred continued. "But you have the makings of a master strategist.

Any given enemy may be many times stronger than you, physically, but with the right strategy, you can hold your own against the strongest of foes, despite their superior strength."

The professor halted in his lecture, examining the four RWBY teammates. Ruby was still sleeping. Weiss's face was a mask of attentiveness, but it was clear that her mind was elsewhere. Blake appeared to be reading a book under the table and Yang was staring into space, doodling idly in her notebook, not even pretending to listen. The state of the rest of the class wasn't much better.

"All right," said Alfred with a sigh. "Class is dismissed early today. I can see your hearts aren't in it. We will reconvene after you've all had some rest."

Students began to file towards the exit, not quite believing their luck. They hurried along before the professor could change his mind. Miraculously, Ruby was instantly on her feet, full of energy, without anyone having to wake her.

"Finally, it's over." Yang's relief was cut short, however, when she noticed the professor striding toward them.

"Tell me, what am I going to do with the four of you?" he asked. "Can you explain to me the meaning of your derogatory behavior in my class?"

"Our apologies, sir," said Weiss, her hands clasped before her. "But we have matters of the utmost importance to attend to. We would very much appreciate it if we could discuss this sometime later."

"'Utmost importance', eh? What might that be?"

"Sorry, sir," said Blake, trying to edge around the professor, "But we really are in a hurry."

"Not so fast, young lady." Alfred blocked her way. "We will speak on this further, but for now I want you to promise me something."

"What's that, sir?" Ruby was casting impatient glances towards the door.

"Please focus more on your studies and less on unrelated topics, at least while in class."

"But we do, sir!" said Ruby.

"I'm not blind, Miss Rose. In all of my classes you're either sleeping or completely ignoring me, and the three of you aren't much better." That quelled the smirk forming on Yang's face. "You all are pushing the boundaries of courtesy and I urge you reform your behavior."

Weiss, always the diplomat, was the first to respond. "We apologize for our lapses, sir. They won't happen again. We promise."

"I would advise you not to make promises you can't keep, Miss Schnee. I understand your difficulties. The subject matter of the lessons isn't always interesting to you and the hours can be long-"

Yang rolled her eyes. "Tell me about it."

"-but realize that, at the end of the day, these lessons are for you, not me. If you decide that they aren't for you, I can excuse you from them, but if you want to learn here I must ask that you put your best foot forward. I don't want you giving a bad example to your classmates. If you decide as a team that you don't want to learn here, fine, but don't drag others down with you."

Alfred sighed. "I will give you all time to consider. I want to speak with each of you privately afterward regarding your decision. Dismissed."

* * *

 _What am I doing here?_ Alfred thought to himself as he turned the corner towards his rooms.

It was his third day of teaching and he wasn't making any headway with his bone-headed students. With the exception of that Arc boy; he had promise.

 _Maybe I'm doing something wrong, boring them. What can I do to make this accessible?_ He perked up slightly. _Maybe I can take them deep into the woods far away from any civilization, surround them with a pack of hungry Grimm, and then…no, wait. Ozpin would probably fire me._ He sighed. _Why do they coddle their children here? When I was their age I was taking down multiple opponents at once. Ah, nostalgia…_

"Thank goodness! I thought that lesson would never end." Blake's voice.

Team RWBY's door was open a crack. Alfred sidled up to the door nonchalantly, keeping an ear open. Old habits died hard.

"I actually feel kind of guilty." Weiss's voice. "I mean, he's trying to do his job and we're just making it harder for him."

"Come _on_ , Weiss. Lighten up." Yang. "He's not that great of a teacher anyway. I think I'll take him up on his offer. I don't see any point in staying in his classes."

 _Your loss._

"Come on, sis. I think he's got _some_ redeeming qualities. Eh?"

"Oh, shut up, you." Her statement was punctuated by a muffled thump and a barrage of giggles from Ruby.

"How about we focus on the matter at hand?"

"Sorry, Blake."

"Yeah!" Ruby exclaimed. "The investigation begins today!"

"I'm glad you're taking this so seriously," said Weiss dryly.

"Hey," said Yang. "We've got a plan, don't we? I'd say that's serious enough."

"Right," said Ruby. "Everyone remember their bit? Weiss?"

"I will visit the CCTS tower to check my family's records and gather information about the Dust robberies and look for inconsistencies," Weiss rattled off.

"The White Fang has regular rallies to gather new recruits and support," said Blake. "I'll see if I can find one and get into it."

 _So she_ is _a Faunus. I thought so._

"I've got a friend who knows everything that goes on in Vale," said Yang. "It shouldn't be too hard to get some information out of him about this Torchwick guy."

"Great," said Ruby. "When we finish we'll meet back here and compare what we find. Let's do this, team!"

"Yeah! Let's do this!" A new voice. Male.

Alfred risked a peek through the crack at this point. A young blond man hang upside-down from the windowsill with his monkey tail.

"Sun!" The girls recoiled in surprise.

"How did you get there?" asked Yang.

"Oh, it's easy. I do it all the time."

"You do what?!" Weiss nearly screamed, horrified.

"Climb trees," Sun reassured her. "I climb trees all the time."

"So, how about this Torchwick, huh? Sounds pretty shady to me."

"We're investigating him as a _team_ ," said Blake.

"Sorry, Sun, but we don't want to involve friends if we don't have to," said Ruby.

"That's silly. You should always involve friends." Sun jerked his thumb towards his…left? Right? It was hard to tell with him hanging upside-down.

"I'd have to agree with Sun here," said Alfred, pushing the door open and walking inside. "Friends can be quite an asset in any situation."

"Professor Alfred!" Weiss started. "What are you doing here? With respect, this is our private bedroom."

"Please don't play dumb, Miss Schnee. I heard everything." He turned and addressed the window. "You may come out now Mr. Vasilius."

"Your last name is _Vasilius?_ " asked Sun with a snort, helping the blue-haired Neptune clamber into the room.

"Shut up, man."

Alfred clasped his hands behind his back and began pacing around the room. "So, to sum up, the four of you- all underage and unqualified huntresses- were planning on investigating the terrorist organization known as the White Fang and a notoriously dangerous criminal by the name of Roman Torchwick."

"Yeah." Yang crossed her arms. "What are you going to do about it?"

Alfred's face was grave. "The law- and common sense- dictates that I go straight your headmaster and tell him of this immediately." His expression disappeared like a cracked mask and a radiant smile shone in its place. "But what would be the fun in that?"

"What? Fun?" Weiss looked incredulous. "Aren't you a teacher? What's going on?"

"I'm taking an educated guess that you will embark on this endeavor regardless of Ozpin's knowledge, so I the least I can do is ensure that you remain safe."

"You know, we could always knock him out and tie him up somewhere," Blake suggested.

Alfred erupted in gales of merriment. "Sorry, sorry," he said, wiping tears away. "That was hilarious! The notion of you overpowering me. Such a ridiculous image!" The laughter faded and his face became business-like again. "Besides, you wouldn't be able to keep me locked away forever, and I would tell Ozpin sooner or later. That really is an atrocious plan, Miss Belladonna. I expected more from you.

"Anyway, back to the issue at hand, you have two options: either I go tell your headmaster about this little operation, or-"

"Or what?" said Yang petulantly.

"Or let me join you. You could use some extra protection. I didn't become a professor at one of the most high-profile Hunting schools in the Four Kingdoms without some skills."

"We can protect ourselves, sir," Ruby piped up. "We have our own weapons." She removed the large gun at her waist and unfolded it to its full length as a giant scythe.

"Ruby, how many times?" said Weiss. "Not indoors!"

"Sorry." The scythe disappeared, concealed once again in its gun form.

"Seriously! You could kill someone like that."

"May I see that?" Alfred held out his hand. "What's its name?"

Ruby handed it over reluctantly. " _Her_ name is Crescent Rose."

Alfred raised an eyebrow. "So personal."

"She's saved my life many times. Can you blame me if I'm kind of attached?"

Alfred hefted the weapon. "Interesting feel. Sniper rifle, good combination with a scythe. And…oh, this is clever. The recoil can be channeled into different directions and harnessed as slicing power. Very effective! Pleasing aesthetically, but a bit light in my opinion"

Ruby held her hands, indicating she wanted the scythe back. "You're good. Not so many people are so observant."

Alfred accepted the compliment with a gracious nod. "I suggest we get back to the matter at hand."

"Yes. No more wasted time," said Blake. "I guess if you all want to make yourselves useful Sun can come with me to the White Fang rally. They should let both of us in." A gentle blush colored her cheeks. She glanced furtively at the professor.

"Don't worry, Blake," said Alfred. "There's nothing to be ashamed of."

She lowered her gaze. "How long have you known?" she whispered.

"I had guessed, but I didn't know for sure until today. Don't worry," he said with an easy smile. "I won't tell anyone."

Blake mirrored his smile weakly. "Thanks."

"Anyway, I'll be going with Mr. Vasilius and Miss Xiao Long."

"Great," said Yang, rolling her eyes.

"How about Neptune comes with me?" Weiss asked, edging towards the blue-haired boy. "Then Ruby and Yang can have sisterly bonding tome together."

"You're sisters?" Alfred asked, surprised. "But you have different last names."

"Half-sisters," said Yang, waving a hand. "Same father, different mothers. It's not important."

"Well then, speaking of names, I believe it would be prudent for me to call you all by your first names during the investigation. It might seem strange to passers-by. Likewise, you may call me 'Alfred' for the time being."

"Back to my question, then. Why don't Ruby and Yang go out together and then I can go with Neptune?" Weiss said hopefully.

"Oh, Weiss," Ruby laughed. "Don't be silly, we'll have fun together." She dragged a protesting Weiss out of the room.

"I guess that's it," said Sun. "Battle stations, everyone!" He ran out of the room whooping excitedly. Blake followed at a more sedate pace.

"So where are we going?" Alfred asked.

"Weren't you eavesdropping on us?" said Yang. "You should know."

"You didn't give a specific location. How am I supposed to know?"  
Yang raised a finger. "Well, you can't come anyway. I only have room on my motorcycle for one passenger."

"Oh, I can get there on my own, don't you worry. Just give me an address and we can be on our way."

"Wait, sir-"began Neptune.

"Ah, ah. 'Alfred'"

"Um-Alfred. If you have a car, why can't we just all go in it."

"I don't have a car, or any vehicle for that matter."

"Then how are you supposed to keep up?"

"Well, if you knew the answers to all the secrets of the universe then life would be pretty boring, wouldn't it, Neptune?"

"I-I guess."

"Yang. The address."

The blond girl jotted down an address and handed it to Alfred. Her expression was neutral enough, but he noticed the slight curl in the corner of her mouth, the twinkle in her eye. _You sly fox_. She had almost fooled him. He pretended to accept the paper and nodded his thanks.

"Then we'll meet there."

* * *

 **A/N- Sorry about the wait. Life is crazy. Hope you enjoy this new chapter. Please leave your thoughts in the review section. It really helps us to know what you guys like and don't like and allows us to create better content. Have a nice day!**

 **~The Beast in the Woods**

 **Disclaimer: RWBY belongs to Rooster Teeth.**


	4. Chapter 3

"Come on. My friend's in here," said Yang, dismounting Bumblebee. Her motorcycle was one her favorite things in the world. Besides Ember Celica, of course.

Neptune seemed a little queasy after the breakneck speed of the ride. He tried to dismount smoothly, but stumbled and almost fell. He picked himself up, adjusting his goggles. "What is this place?"

"My friend works here. He runs a network of informants in the city from this bar. If anyone knows something about this Torchwick, it'll be him."

The bar was in a seedy part of town, one where you would expect shady dealings between shadier people; where unwary folk would run into a lot of trouble. Fortunately, Yang wasn't the average upstanding citizen. She knew this place like the back of her hand. No harm would come to her or her friends.

"I don't know, Yang." Neptune was still hesitant. "This place looks like bad news."

"Come _on_ , you big baby." She grabbed his hand and began dragging him towards the front door. "At least I got that professor off our back. This would be really hard with him screwing around with everything."

"Wait…you gave him a fake address?"

"Yup," said Yang, smiling smugly.

"You are precisely three minutes late," a voice called out from the shadows near the bar.

A familiar figure was leaning against the wall, reading from a thick, leather-bound book.

"Professor! You…you got here before us," said Yang.

"Yes," Alfred said simply, smiling. He didn't mention Yang's attempted subterfuge.

"So, do we go in?" Neptune asked, bouncing nervously on the balls of his feet.

"What kind of a question is that?" Alfred demanded. "Of course we go in!" He pushed the double doors open with a flourish. "Ladies first," he said, sweeping his hand toward Yang.

"Let's get this over with," she said, rolling her eyes. "Just let me do the talking."

"How was the drive over?" Alfred asked Neptune in a conversational tone as Yang stalked toward the open doors.

"Bumpy and uncomfortable." Neptune rubbed his neck in an attempt to work out the kinks.

Alfred nodded sympathetically. "Traffic?"

"The problem wasn't the roads, they were actually pretty clear." He shot a furtive glance in Yang's direction and lowered his voice. "The problem was the driver! Seriously, bro, she's crazy!" Neptune shook his head. "How did you get here anyway? You should have known if there was traffic. You wouldn't have to ask."

Alfred chuckled. "Firstly, I'm not your brother. Secondly, how I got here is a trade secret. If you're lucky, maybe someday you'll see how."

"I would really appreciate some way of getting around besides-"

An explosion sounded from the bar's open doors.

Neptune ran inside, followed closely by Alfred. "I hope Yang's not in trouble."

"Believe me, Neptune. Trouble is the last thing she's in," said Alfred with a knowing smile.

"Guess who's back!" Yang spread her arms out as if expecting applause.

Silence.

A moment later too many guns to count were drawn and pointed directly at her.

"Yeah, could you define 'friend' for me?" Neptune squeaked.

"Enough! No one shoot." A man with bass voice and a physique to match approached them. He wore a crisp suit and gloves that made him look like an overdressed Ursa. He loomed over them.

"Blondie. You're back. Why?" Amazingly, his voice shook slightly at that last word. He seemed to be wary of the teenage girl half his size.

"And she's not alone Junior!" Alfred said waving cheerily at the hulking man.

"You're here too?" He looked at Alfred and pointed at Yang. "Good grief, you two know each other?"

"Didn't your mother ever teach you that it's rude to point?" said Alfred, crossing his arms, adopting a severe demeanor. "And, to answer your question, yes, I do know her. She's one of my students."

"Hold up, you know him?" Yang asked, incredulous.

"Long story," said Alfred, giving Junior a one-armed hug. "We met about two years back and we've been fast friends ever since. Isn't that right, buddy?"

Junior gave an embarrassed cough, trying unsuccessfully to extricate himself from the one-sided hug.

Alfred continued, seemingly oblivious to Junior's discomfort. "You're probably _so_ happy to see your old friend again that you'll invite him _and_ all of his friends for a drink. On the house.

"Sure, sure, whatever." Junior finally shook off the professor's tenacious grip and made his way toward the bar.

"Make it one extra," Yang called after him. "You still owe me." She began to walk after Junior. Probably to make sure that he made her extra drink.

"What a woman," Neptune marveled.

"You know," said Alfred. "I think she's starting to warm up to me."

"Isn't she a little young for you?"

The professor seemed offended. "Not in that way! If you won't control your tongue, Mr. Vasilius, I will take you back to Beacon this instant."

Alfred walked off to join Yang and Junior at the bar. "Let's get down to business, Junior. I want information and I want a non-alcoholic beverage for the children."

"Hey! What are we? Ten years old?" Yang was livid.

"You're driving back to Beacon on your motorcycle, aren't you?"

Yang replied with a glare.

"Why not me?" asked Neptune. "I'm not driving."

"Because I said so," said Alfred, turning his attention back to the bear-like proprietor. "Three glasses of something non-alcoholic and you can get something for yourself as well, if you like."

Junior sighed, resigned. "What do you need?" he asked, pouring three glasses of orange juice.

"We need everything you've got on Roman Torchwick and the White Fang," Yang interjected. It looked like she was trying to wrest control of the conversation back from Alfred.

"Torchwick and the White fang are all over the new. Why don't you look there?"

"Don't play games with me, Junior," said Alfred, slamming his empty glass onto the bar. "I want something a bit juicier." His eyes widened. "Like this _delicious_ orange juice! Where do you get this stuff? Is it freshly squeezed? It doesn't have that…aftertaste of too much added sugar, you know what I mean?"

"Maybe we should focus a little on more important things, professor?" said Yang. She turned a steely gaze toward Junior. "Tell us what you know. Where's Torchwick hiding? Who's funding him? Everything."

"I don't know," said Junior, draining a tumbler of whiskey and setting it on the bar upside-down.

"I don't believe you. You always know _something_."

"Yeah, well, Torchwick is a very secretive kind of guy, Blondie. I haven't seen him since the first night you came here. He hired some of my men for a 'job' and none of them came back. I don't want anything else to do with him. I suggest you do the same."

Neptune felt he should contribute to the conversation. "Where did your men go?"

The man regarded him with a hooded gaze. "What kind of a stupid question is that?" he rumbled. "They didn't come back." He jerked a thumb the size of a sausage at Neptune. "Who is this kid, anyway? How's he connected to all this?"

Alfred glared at Junior. "What did we say about pointing?"

A glimmer of panic appeared for a moment in the man's usually calm eyes. "It's not polite. I'm sorry. It won't happen again," he said hurriedly.

Neptune stared, amazed. What kind of man could cow someone like Junior. He looked like he could snap the professor in half as an afterthought, but he acted like the smaller man was in charge.

"Don't worry about them," said Yang, leaning forward. "Worry about me if I don't get what I want!"

"He's not lying, Yang," said Alfred.

"How do you know?"

"I'm good at reading people. Just one of the many skills I've picked up over the years" Alfred rose from his seat. "Anyway, thanks for your time, pal. It's been fun. I hope we'll meet again soon." He set off towards the exit.

"Not _too_ soon, I hope," muttered Junior under his breath.

"I heard that!" Alfred called out.

Junior flinched.

* * *

"I didn't think you'd be the kind of guy to know about these places, professor."

"There are many things you don't know about me, Yang."

"Let's just hope the rest of the group had more luck than us."

They made their way up a flight of stairs by a disused parking lot. Vehicles zipped by them on a large bridge.

"So…how did you and Junior meet?" asked Neptune. "I noticed that he wasn't all that pleased to see you."

"It, like so many other things, is a long story."

"Are you going to tell it?" asked Neptune eagerly.

"No," said Alfred, nodding . "At least, not now."

"Then why did you just nod?" asked Yang. "Don't tell me, it's a long story."

"No. It's just fun to mess with people." The professor grinned, his eyes twinkling.

"So, what do we do now?" asked Neptune.

"Well, this is the rendezvous point," said Yang. "We wait here for the others."

Alfred removed a white chess piece, a pawn, from his coat pocket and began to extend and retract a large hidden blade from it by pressing its head. The blade clicked in and out.

"Is that your weapon?" asked Neptune.

"Hm?" The professor looked at the pawn in his hand, surprised, as if he wasn't aware of what he was doing. "Oh, you could say that, but it's more one part of a whole than a single weapon."

"What do you call them all together?" Yang asked, amused. "The Royal Set?"

"No," said Alfred, distractedly glancing out into the night.

"So does every one have a different name?"

"None of them have names, and I don't think they ever will." Alfred gazed at the white pawn with an unreadable expression.

"Why not?" asked Neptune.

Alfred swung his guarded eyes up to Neptune. "When you give something, or someone, a name, you get attached to them. I can't afford that."

"Why?" asked Yang. "What's stopping you?"

Alfred turned his back on the two of them. "It's a long story," he said with a hitch in his voice.

Yang nodded, rolling her eyes. "Of course. That's your answer to everyth-"

"Quiet!" Alfred hissed, crouching and laying a hand on the ground. "Do you feel that?"

"Feel what?" The tone in his voice made Yang take notice. She prepared for a speedy getaway, putting on her motorcycle helmet and sunglasses.

"You put on sunglasses at night? Really?"

"Professor! Focus!"

"Sorry," said Alfred. "I feel the ground shaking. Something big is coming. Can't you feel it?"

Not getting an answer, the professor sidled up to one of the bridge's supports, tying a thin rope to the pawn-dagger in his hand. Yang hadn't seen where he got the rope.

"Wait, Professor!" Yang called out. "Blake's on the line!" She answered the call on her scroll. "Hello? Blake? Where are you?"

"Come quick! We need backup!" Blake's panicked voice was joined by Sun's. "There's a robot! Huge! Torchwick's inside it. He's controlling it."

"Where are you?" Yang repeated.

A tremor ran through the ground. An enormous metal monster screeched to a halt on the bridge not a hundred meters away. It seemed to be trying to land a hit on two small figures.

"Blake! Sun!" Yang yelled.

"Woohoo!" An exulting whoop rang through the night. Professor Alfred shot passed her with blinding speed, pulled by his makeshift grappling hook, the end of which was buried deeply in the robot's side.

Alfred flew through the night air, eyes licked onto his quarry. He had never seen anything like it before. It must be a new development. He landed adroitly on the robot's head, retrieving his knife. The street on the bridge was alive with late-night traffic. So many civilians.

 _What were you thinking leading Torchwick here?_ he raged at Blake and Sun. _He could claim dozens of lives. I can't let that happen._

Alfred raised an arm towards the asphalt of the road. It was made of several substances, but only the main component was of any interest to him. Rock.

 _No point in keeping it secret now._

With a grunt and a swift gesture, a slab of the road under the robot's foot rose up, levering the metal monster over the railing and off the bridge, away from the vehicles.

Falling with the robot, Alfred hefted his knife, throwing it at a nearby bridge support. It sank into the concrete up to the hilt, its velocity enhanced greatly by powers that didn't belong in this world.

He yanked the rope firmly, pulling himself off of the falling machine and onto the ground. The robot smashed down a moment later, sending chunks of the parking lot flying everywhere.

Large ice-encased bullets exploded against its exoskeleton. Ruby and Weiss had arrived.

Alfred took a wide stance, rooting himself firmly in place. He brought both arms up slowly, muscles trembling with the effort. Thick spires of rock vaguely resembling his outstretched limbs erupted from beneath the parking lot, pinning the giant machine to the ground and trapping its pilot.

Lowering his arms, Alfred took a moment to catch his breath. It was always so much harder to do here. Why was that?

Recovering slightly, he stormed towards the two Faunus as they rejoined the group. "What…the _blazes_ did you think you were doing?" His voice was a deadly calm.

"What do you mean, Professor?" Blake seemed confused and more than slightly intimidated. "Now's not the time. We need to neutralize Torchwick." She drew her sword.

"No, this is exactly the time!" Alfred snapped, grabbing Blake's arm.

"What are you doing? We'll lose our advantage!" She tried in vain to escape Alfred's iron grip. The robot began to reactivate, attempting to slam its arms against the giant rocks that trapped it.

"Just answer me this question, Blake," said Alfred through clenched teeth. "How can you call yourself a protector of humanity and then go do something so monumentally _irresponsible_?"

"How is _this_ irresponsible?" Blake gestured towards the robot. It was possible to see Roman sitting in the cockpit, frantically trying to regain control of the machine. "I'm bringing a dangerous criminal to justice!"

"At the cost of human lives?" demanded Alfred, his face only inches from Blake's. He gestured toward the bridge where several cars had lost control and caused many accidents. "You could have led him anywhere at all, and you take him to a busy street where the chances of civilian casualty are astronomically higher than literally _anywhere else_ in the city!"

Blake's eyes widened as she realized the severity of what she'd done. "I-I didn't think-"

"Of course you didn't!" Alfred took a breath, calming himself. "Next time, please do. Most deaths are caused not by malice, but by neglect and ignorance." He released her arm. "You and I speak of this further in the future. Now, as you said, let's bring Torchwick to justice."

Ruby and Weiss continued to bombard the machine with ice rounds. A creative fusion of Dust, ingenuity and Weiss's Semblance.

Alfred took a stance similar to the one before and made a prying motion with his hands.

Nothing happened.

Alfred's brow creased in confusion. "It's not working," he muttered to himself.

"What's not working?" inquired Weiss.

"The robot's metal; it's too pure, too refined. I can't affect it."

Blake shook her head as if to clear it. "First of all, it's called a Paladin. Second, what in the world are you talking about?"

"Never you mind." He began tearing chunks of rock from the ground without touching them and alternated between kicking and simply tossing them at the trapped Paladin. "It's what you would call my Semblance."

Weiss cocked her head. "So, is it your Semblance or not?"

"No," said Alfred with a tone of finality. It wouldn't do for these children to begin prying into his business.

With a titanic effort accompanied by a loud crack, the Paladin broke through its stone restraints and tossed Neptune and Sun aside with a backhanded gesture.

 _Have to draw its attention._

Alfred redoubled his efforts by tossing boulders of ever-increasing size at his adversary. The bulky machine evaded the missiles with astonishing grace. However, he was distracted for long enough for Ruby and Blake to slip under its guard and dismantle its arm.

Yang leapt into the action. Literally. She soared through the air, landing on the Paladin's cockpit, pummeling it repeatedly in an attempt to shatter it. The Paladin then grabbed her leg and flung her bodily into one of the bridge supports.

"Yang!" Blake made as if to rush over to her side.

"Blake, she's fine," said Ruby, holding her friend back. "Stay back. You'll only expose yourself."

"But-" Blake tried to break free.

"Seriously, Blake, she's fine. Watch."

Yang stumbled to her feet, a warm yellow glow enveloping her. Her blond hair blazed gold and her lilac eyes deepened to a blood-red shade. They glared above a manic grin.

A chill ran down Alfred's spine. Yang burned. So much like that fire so long ago. The one that brought his world crashing down.

The Paladin's remaining arm plummeted towards her.

"Yang!" He wasn't certain whose voice it was. Maybe it was his.

The Paladin froze with a sudden jerk, its hand clutched in Yang's. She didn't seem the least bit fazed. With a single blow, she pulverized the metallic arm. Pieces of it rained down in front of her.

Ruby's voice rang out. "It's weakened now! Take it down!"

Multitudes of attacks came from all directions; cleaver to a joint, a scythe to a pipeline, huge chunks of concrete hurled at the cockpit.

And a raging ball of radiant fire from the sky.

Yang plummeted down towards the Paladin, fists leading the way. Her entire body was engulfed in the glow of her Aura. She made contact with the robot's midriff, shattering it and effectively immobilizing its entire body.

Through the settling dust, a clear, youthful voice rang out. "I just had this cleaned." Roman Torchwick climbed out of his metal monster, visibly shaken despite his cavalier attitude.

A bullet from Yang's gauntlet shot towards his face-

-and bounced off a pink and white, frilly umbrella.

The umbrella's owner, a slight, pale woman with hair that was colored pink and brown, folded her weapon, twirling it as she did so. Alfred noticed something strange about her eyes. They were different colors. Pink and brown, like her hair, but on opposite sides. _Heterochromia iridium_ , he thought. _Haven't seen that in a while_.

Roman made a theatrical gesture. "Ladies, gentlemen…Ice Queen." He winked at Weiss.

"Hey!"

"More like Ice _Cream_ ," snorted Alfred.

Weiss shot him an indignant look.

"Did I say that out loud?"

"Shut up."

"No, he's right," Roman called out with a smirk. "It suits you, _Ice Cream_." He snickered. "Anyway, it's been a pleasure meeting all you. Really, all of you." He put a hand on his heart with a sincere expression. "Even you, whoever you are." He nodded toward Alfred. "I even left a gift for you all." He turned to the small pink woman. "Neo, if you would."

She dipped into a deep, elegant bow, holding that position. Yang rushed at them, swinging. Her gauntlet connected with Roman. He shattered like a mirror, exploding into nothingness. The group looked about in confusion. Where had they gone?

A drone sounded above them. An airship. Roman and Neo waved cheerfully from inside it. The airship accelerated, whisking the two criminals away to safety.

Weiss turned to Alfred. "Ice Cream?" she asked dryly.

"Not now, Weiss," said Alfred, looking around himself wildly. "What did he mean by 'present'?"

"It does kind of make sense," said Sun, apparently having recovered from the battle.

"Don't interfere!" snapped Weiss. "Professor, don't ignore me!"

Alfred ignored her.

His eyes picked up a faint red haze around the fallen Paladin. Like a fog or…Dust.

"Run!" Alfred yelled in panic. "Everybody, get away!"

The students scrambled to obey. Alfred erected a wall of stone between them and the improvised Dust incendiary moments before the brunt of the blast ripped into his back.

The heat was such that it scorched his flesh and vaporized every drop of blood that spilled from his wounds caused by the shrapnel. Alfred's vision dimmed rapidly. Was he dying? His body sure seemed to be saying that.

He collapsed against the barrier he had created to shield his students, his clothes shredded from the pieces of the Paladin that punctured his frame.

"Professor!" Ruby's voice. Yes, she was here, wasn't she? She crouched beside him, trembling hands trying desperately to stanch the flow of blood.

"Where-" Alfred coughed weakly, spraying the girl with blood. "Where is it?" He fumbled at his neck with the less damaged of his hands. It had to be there.

"Try to keep him awake, Ruby." Blake's voice was distant and seemed to echo slightly. "Sun and I will get help."

"Where is it?" Alfred asked more insistently, trying to pull himself up.

"No, Professor. Don't move. You'll be fine, just sit tight and keep your eyes on me." Her voice shook, tears beading in her eyes. "Don't go to sleep."

"What are you looking for, Professor?" Yang joined them while Weiss hovered uncertainly behind her. "Tell us. We can find it for you."

"Necklace. Silver." It hurt to talk. Those were probably his lungs. Pity.

Yang and Weiss wandered off. His senses seemed to heightened. He could hear the two girls talking across the lot.

"How are we going to tell Ozpin?"

"Tell him what? That his newest professor just died?"

"Weiss! He's not dead. He's not going to die!"

"Yang, be realistic. Look at his wound. Even with intensive medical care, you don't just walk something like this off. I doubt he'll make it to the infirmary."

"He won't die! He can't! We brought him on this mission; if he dies, it's our fault."

"He came on this mission on his own. He knew the risks."

"I tried to convince him not to come. I tried to trick him! I didn't try hard enough!"

"It's not your fault."

"But I-"

"Yang, quiet. Look, I think I found the necklace."

The two approached Alfred. "Is this it?" asked Weiss.

The dull silvery disk. The sturdy shoelace he's used as a chain when the original snapped. The flower design on the face with the giant scratch across it. It was the same.

He nodded, wincing.

He held it in his hands, caressing the cold metal. "You can let go. I won't move."

"You'll be all right, Professor, I promise." Yang's voice was strained. She gave a weak smile.

"I already told you," Alfred rasped through his blood-flecked lips. "Don't make promises you can't keep."

"No!" Yang's voice cracked. "No, Alfred! You can't!"

"Don't be sad." Alfred looked up at her. "That's life. It ends at some point." He lowered his gaze to the amulet clutched in his hands like a lifeline in the hands of a drowning man. "I know we've only just met, but I'm honored to have met such exemplary people." A weak smile blossomed on his lips and faded away quickly. "If only I could have seen it one last time." A solitary tear ran down his cheek.

"Seen what?" Yang leaned in closer. Alfred's voice was getting fainter. "Your necklace? It's right here." She reached out toward it, her fingers brushing it lightly.

The moment she touched it, it began to glow fiercely with an unearthly light.

* * *

Everything dissolved into a void. Nothing existed in this twisting maelstrom of nothingness. Not even her own body.

A pinpoint of light appeared in the distance, growing steadily brighter and larger. Yang couldn't tell how long they hung there, watching the light approach. Time didn't seem to exist here. The light grew stronger and stronger, until-

With a sound like a boot pulled out of quicksand, Yang popped back into existence.

Groaning, she pulled herself to her hands and knees. She was in a small, empty room filled with broken furniture and dust. She got to her feet unsteadily, she wasn't sure what had just happened. The last thing she remembered was-

 _The Professor!_

She scanned the room. Where was he?

"Oww…" A low moan sounded from underneath a splintered couch. A boy about her age crawled out from under it, hand to his head. Yang backpedaled, raising her gauntlets. He could be dangerous.

"I'm alive?" the young man wondered to himself. "I'm alive!" he exulted. He pinched himself. "Yes! This is real!" He raised a hand to his throat and coughed. "What's wrong with my voice?"

"Who are you?" demanded Yang.

"Oh, stop playing games, Yang. You know who I am."

"I've never met you before in my life," said Yang, confused. "What have you done with the Professor?"

"Professor? I'm the Professor!" the boy exclaimed earnestly.

"What…what are you talking about? You're, like seventeen!"

The young man blanched. "What?" He scrambled for a moment around the room, coming up with a shard of a broken mirror. "I don't believe it," he said, touching his face. "I'm nineteen again."

Yang reeled. Half-formed thoughts clouded her mind. Nothing made sense, it was all too much.

Everything went black.

* * *

 **A/N- Hey everyone! The beast is here. Tremble before me, mortals! You know what, maybe hold off on the groveling for a second and let me know what you thought. Leave a review and, if you like this chapter, follows and favorites will also be accepted as forms of tribute to the raw awesomness that is me.**

 **This is where the fic diverges (mostly) from the show. Things are going to get different from now on. If you like this fic so far, be sure to check out the prequel to this arc at our profile, the Order of the Rose.**

 **Hope you guys enjoyed. See you next time.**

 **Disclaimer- RWBY belongs to Rooster Teeth.**


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